Elven Angel
by SageoWind218
Summary: Aragorn thinks of an Elf that is he considers to be an angel as he takes his place as king on the highest level of Minas Tirith. Slight slash.


I just saw Return of the King about two hours ago, and saw two scenes that really made something up to me. So, if you have not seen the third movie of the trilogy, I'd advise you not to read this until you have, 

This is my first attempt at a Lord of the Rings story, and it will contain slash (Aragorn/Legolas).

Aragorn, Legolas, etc. and others are not mine, but are owned by J.R.R. Tolkien. 

_

'Elven Angel'

_

__

"Elessar...."

"For Frodo..."

I heard it... I heard the scream of bravery and fear mix into one bellow as I ran to the disfigured army of blood and odor. I knew that as the King of Gondor, I had a duty to spark courage and hope in my people's eyes when others could not. I was the one their loyalty resided in more than anyone else of this land. I felt as if a great weight had been lifted for an odd reason. I had been so... distant from my lineage that I forgot what my lineage was about. They placed their trust into their king... 

And he had placed all of his trust into me... I could tell by the high-pitched squeals of his arrows finding their targets so amazingly done considering his Elven speed that he was running with. Truly, his the angel upon this battlefield, watching the mortal and tainted fight in order to mandate who would be victor of Middle-Earth... but what am I if I cannot provide that feeling he can to me...? I am a king, born with royal blood, as he... but does he feel warmth and protection in my care? Did he truly feel comfort when his Elven senses were bombarded by the cold sweep of death and suffering that filled the air of the path into the mountain where the cursed race lived? Did he... want me to hold him when... there was almost no hope?

His smile tells me everything. 

But his smile was not there when the towering body of the troll covered in a thick hide of metal raised his club to take my life. No... tis the fear and twinge of loss in his eyes that I saw when I heard his screams, crying out my name as I was pounded into the dirt in front of the opened Black Gates of Morodor... and as I heard the soft music of my Elven Angel, I knew of no pain... Of no agony that tantalized me beyond all limits. But all I knew was his song drifting across the thriving forests of Rivendell and of his stories of great races and heroes of Middle-Earth as we trotted along in our quest after Boromir was killed by the arrows of the Urak-Hai, after Frodo and Sam went to Mount Doom alone to destroy the One Ring, and after I was aware that Merry and Pippin were out of the hands of the Orcs heading for Isengard. 

__

"Aragorn! Aragorn!"

And then I saw a light that covered everything; the swords clashing, the men yelling, and even Gimli hacking his ax into the hard armor of the vile, distorted Orcs to best _him... _The light seemed to have blinded no one else but my eyes. I noticed it came from one particular direction after my vision had grown used to the flashing light. As I looked to the source of the light, I saw him, reaching out for me, screaming my name, tears falling down his perfect cheeks.

__

"Don't die, Aragorn!"

The light I saw... was coming from his lithe frame that I adored and watched so closely that I would be considered a stalker to most if they comprehended my situation. I stretched my hand to his, smiling as the crimson fluid flowed out my mouth and down the side of my chin. I wanted to feel the caressing feel of his palm and fingers intertwined in mine if I was to fall victim to the force I tried so hard to stop. 

If I was going to die, I wanted to die in his arms.

__

"Please fight, Aragorn!!!"

And then the light was gone, my knife's black handle was in my hand and the blade was embedded deep within the gray, decay-like skin of the foot that attempted to take the life of Isildur's heir. It recoiled and swayed dangerously, waving its large hands around, knocking few over. I stood quickly, running over to the elf as it fell onto the ashened earth with a large sound that resembled a drum to my ears. 

I had a light load thrown into my black-armored arms as I heard a soft sob from the blonde elf. His face was nuzzled in my uncovered neck and I found myself in a predicament. I was the king and needed to draw my sword and fight the demons along with my brothers, but I also did not want to have the angel of the forest leave my embrace. "Oh! Aragorn! I...I was so s-scared that you were... A-aragorn!" His sobbing didn't stop and I was frozen in my place as I let my gloved fingers stroke his golden hair as the soldiers of Minas Tirith and Rohán. The men were outnumbered and yet they still fought for the City of the Kings and its people. They were valiant and strong, and I was glad to call them my people... and then it fell...

His tears turned into laughter at the amazing sight of victory at hand and the yells of my men overpowered the yells of Orcs escaping the after-effect of the great task as the Black Gates fell with it... 

Sauron's tower had fallen and Mount Doom erupted before our very eyes.

Frodo would most likely be dead...

_

I saw the bright face of his Elvish beauty as he walked to me with a small group of his people behind him, the White Tree of the Kings was on a banner of silver cloth flapping in the wind that carried the first blossoms of the reviving tree. I laid a hand on his shoulder, knowing I could do no more, and he mimicked my action, beaming at me so... sadly. He knew what had to happen now... and I think that maybe he understood the fact that I did not care for her as I originally thought I had. Though, she had elegance that shamed many, it didn't compare to his... it came nowhere near it...

He then stepped aside, as did the others, and showed Arwen carrying the banner to hide herself behind to surprise me for I had heard that she was fading from the world. Though I did not love her as I did him, she had given her most prized possession to me, and I had a great debt to owe her. But with such a heavy burden came great sacrifice...

I had to leave my prince... I had to let my desire for him diminish along with my freedom as a Ranger and take my lineage and my queen. Every minute of it, I imagined him in her garb, his hair decorated in jewels and Elven crown along with silken white robes that was moved gently to the rhythm of the wind's play. His irises full of happiness and yet sorrow, for it was not truly him. It was the beloved Evenstar in the reality I despised so much. 

But I had to accept my fate, for I had the mortal elf as my bride and I could take no others.

I saw him cry that day. And they were not tears of joy... The degrading liquid stings at mine, threatening to show my weakness. 

__

'I love you, Legolas...my Elven Angel...'

_

I watch him now, clad in black, walking the forest that dies along with his heart. I know of his staying here in the Dying Lands of Middle-Earth, and I wish he would leave so his heart may be at peace. But he does not sail the sea to be with his people across it. It taunts him for I too hear it in the stillness of the air around him. 

I have passed from this world and so has everyone else of the Fellowship. He has no one else to keep his lone soul company as he treads the leaves so gracefully and so melancholy. It has been this way for two hundred years or more. He has not lifted the curse of his broken heart off of his shoulders and try to start a new life that was filled with joy and smiles galore, but he does not for he has the same stubbornness as a dwarf... 

He has forsaken the voice of the sea, forsaken all reason as he walks the dark path of loneliness. 

He stays because _I _am here, but not in spirit, though I watch him from the White Shores. He can tell if I am watching or not, but he does not know it is me purely. He turns his head around the area time to time again as if he were looking for something. 

He stops and tilts his head up heavenward, looking for a sign, I suppose. He was always so observant of his surroundings... but that is the way Elves are; they like to know everything they can about the world. That is what I caught first that made me see that Elves are in tune with nature more than anything other human-like race in Middle-Earth. That is what intrigues me so much about him...

He whispered Elven words into the winter breeze before lowering his head once more and moving once more into the death he knew was coming, unknowing of my eyes that were watching him again as close as a hawk. His hood slides off, showing his golden locks still as bright as he day I touched them when he wept over my safety. I still can feel that soft silk gliding in my palm only to fall and take its place among the others. The icy wind whips at his fragile figure and his hair and robes fly along with the harsh gust of the forest. He turns and mouths his Elvish words in a translation, burning a hole in the spot where nothing seemed to stand. His eyes are lifeless and cold, but they show a lambent aura of disconsolation as he gawks at the place where he must sense I am at. A tear trickled down his inert jaw before sliding down his neck.

__

"I was your light in the dark...

You are the dark that pierced my light..."

_

This is horrible. I had much more planned for it, but I guess I'm not good at doing LOTR stories just yet. Or maybe it's the fact that I can't do anything in first person narrative. One of the two.

Also, I know none of the Elvish words to make this story more... Elvish... Aw, well...

Remember, this is my first story, so go easy on me when you flame, okay? Just politely tell me what I am doing wrong and maybe I won't smash my computer against my wall... 


End file.
